Fore Fathers- Eugene Denney

Tomorrow is Father’s day. I have lost all of my fathers and grandfathers. Most to death, two to anger, all equally lost.
These are the Father’s that I have known in my lifetime. In honor of them I will try to find them again in my memories. One for each day this week.
Eugene Denney: My maternal grandaddy, we called him Daddy Gene. I remember that he worked at a used car sales lot. They often got in old cars that had not been cleaned. He would carefully peel the beautiful wings of butterflies who met their end on the front grille of the various cars. The delicate wings lovingly placed in an old airmail envelope and slid into the darkness of his desk drawer. Multi-colored ceramic spark plugs littered the ground near the garage of the lot. Too beautiful to be trash, my grandaddy picked these up also dropping them into an old wooden box. Getting to visit him at the car lot when I was 4 or 5 or 6 years old my heart would tickle with excitement. I could barely contain myself when he slid open his desk drawer. I knew the treasures that waited. No amount of gold coin could have made me happier than when I peeked into the red and blue edged envelope to see the fragile wings. I knew not to handle them as my Daddy Gene taught me the coloring of the wings was fine powder fleeting easily when handled. Now the spark plugs were a different story. I was always invited to just run my hands through the wooden box searching for the few spark plugs that would soon become mine. Sometimes I favored the all white ceramic, sometimes I liked the ones with the little gold bands. My favorites were the ones that had small blue writing on them.
He passed away in his sleep when I was 7. Almost 50 years ago. Thank for showing me things of beauty Daddy Gene.

My Life In Lists

 

This post was written by my husband…

My Life in Lists
A biographical letter to my friends and family that turned into something else.

An attempt to put on paper many of my thoughts about me.
Feeling unworthy is a recurring theme. My parents helped me to understand that my worth came from my accomplishments or lack there of. I began work at an early age. My father knew that I would not be college material when I was but seven. I lacked the passion to prove him wrong. I became my work. When I worked hard and did well my parents were content if not proud. When I failed my parents withdrew from me.
I grew older. My parents were no longer central. But my early training ran deep.
I measure my life in accomplishments. If I want to assure myself that I am still relevant and need to find some self-worth, I list the accomplishments of my prime…
30 years working in the paper industry
Raising three daughters
Softball, basketball, weight lifting, running, coaching
Recalled feelings from my prime consist mostly of pride, anxiety, anger, fear, and contentment. It was the best time of my life.
I became a person with high cholesterol, high blood pressure, and diabetes when I was 40 years old.
I ran and played sports and I worked hard.
I loved my children and my wife. I loved my dogs.
I ran 5K’s with my oldest daughter. My form wasn’t pretty, but I was swept up in emotions every time I saw my beautiful daughter flying by with such grace.
While putting up a fence with my son-in- law a major life event happened. I got sick with Rhabdomyolysis an extreme form of heat stroke. I was in acute kidney failure. I spent 4 days in the hospital. A week later I was re-admitted to the hospital with congestive heart failure, while still in the hospital I had a heart attack. Two stents were put into an artery in my heart.
Eventually, I had to stop working.
I felt worthless.
I became the kind of person I had never admired: retired early with disability.
I searched for productivity and self-worth and eventually found it in wood working. I collected the tools of the trade and began making useful things in my garage. People were proud of me. I was proud of myself.
I had another heart attack. Another stent.
I am a person with coronary artery disease, severe depression with anxiety, latent autoimmune diabetes of the adult, chronic congestive heart failure, neuropathy, memory loss, high triglycerides, kidney damage, high blood pressure and little self-worth. I think about these things every single day.
One day while driving I could not find my way home.
I have forgotten what kind of vehicle I drive.
Sometimes written words do not make any sense to me.
I have felt hopeless.
I am really angry.
I dwell on all the wrongs.
I keep thinking if I eat right, exercise, take my medications I will get better. I am very frustrated when I don’t get better.
I know other people are worse off than me. But my glass is half empty.
I can no longer do wood working. I also had to sell my precious tools. My medical bills are mounting.
I had another stent placed for a 95% blocked artery.
I am now a soap maker. I like it. It is not tiring. I can obsess over it with little disturbance to others. People are proud of me and my soaps.
People who help me get up in the mornings:
My wife. I appreciate my wife and all she does for me and for putting up with me
through all of this. It is not what I had planned.
Katherine. Always encouraging, and knowledgable. Willing to drop everything to come
help.
Hannah. The voice of reason and my rock. She treats me the same as ever, not like the
unworthy person I think I am.
Claire. The sunshine on my cloudiest days.
Jeff. His tireless listening when I complain about all my ailments. Putting up with me
saying “when I came down with the Rhabdo.”
Ben. He has made it possible to enjoy the outdoors inviting me on hunting expeditions. He checks on me often and even carries extra medicine for me in his pack.
Ron. He is always there with kind words, a kind card or note or just a good laugh and a pat on the back.
Mark and Angie. They both suffer chronic health issues of their own but always find time for me in their thoughts and prayers.
I love my dogs, they offer unconditional love every minute of every day.
I know what it feels like to be humbled by emotions that are good. My three daughters are instant sources of pride and happy feelings. They are the best thing I have ever done.
My glass is half empty but I strive to see it as half full. I pray to overcome the shadow of depression that hangs over everything. I pray to accept what is.
My doctor told me that I have a multi-faceted disease process. There is no cure, but there is slowing it down. I think I finally get this. It will never go away.
I will never run another race with my daughter. The sadness threatens to over take me.
I am finding a new life, a new way to accept myself, and a new way to value the people and things I have in this life. I want to be done with anger.
I go to bed at night and wonder if I will wake up in the morning.
My grandchildren bring me such peace and joy. But there is such profound sadness too. Will I see them all grow up? Does everyone think this? Does everyone find themselves in tears almost daily thinking about all that they might miss?
My pain also rises when I think of my wife. I feel such despair for putting her through all of this. She did not deserve this.
I will have good days and bad. Everyone does. Right?